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I am an excellent reader. When I can’t think of what to write, then I just fuhgeddaboudit and read a book instead. I’ve actually become a bit of a book snob. Not snobby in the sense that I can only read “literature” or best sellers, or award winners, or that I even know what I’m talking about when it comes to books. No, I’m just snobby in the sense that I try only to select books that really interest me, because I find that reading for pleasure is still an effort for me.

I love to read, but it’s an effort? Sounds like a contradiction, so let me explain. I’m not the kind of person that sits down and reads for hours until I finish a book in the wee hours of the morning. I might as well just pop a sleeping pill and go to bed. There are few books that could truly keep me awake if I was tired, and I am always tired. I read in spurts, chapters here and there, always anxious about the next short block of time I can carve out just for reading. I sometimes read during my lunch hour, in the car at soccer practice, or before I go to bed at night. My progression through a book is a little like watching a soap opera, except that unlike watching soaps, eventually I do finish the stories.

This technique is known in scientific circles as SSRS. That’s no BS, truly. You can tell that’s no BS because there are no vowels in either SSRS or BS, so it must be true. It goes like this – SSRS – select, salivate (um, figuratively), read, and savor. After going through this process, then I rush to the book shelf to start over… SSRS. So exciting! Yeah, I really don’t get out so much…

It sounds hokey, but to me reading a book is a little like opening a door and stepping into a different reality … what’s behind door number one? Number two? Lots of little doors I have opened this year so far, fourteen to be exact. A modest accomplishment for some people, but I’m pretty sure it’s a record for me, and it’s still just October.

I try to finish every single book I start, so I definitely don’t want to select a stinker because I will feel compelled to read it anyway. After all, someone spent a year to write the dang thing, I should at least be willing to spend a few hours a week to read it. Not sure why I’m like that, maybe I don’t want to hurt the author’s feelings. Only a couple of times in my entire life have I started a book (meaning, a novel) that I didn’t finish, and deep down I felt a little guilty when I closed those books and decided to put them back on the shelf. One of the books was as dull as dry toast. I don’t remember a thing about it except reading words for about ten pages and suddenly thinking, I am reading this book but the story is missing. Then skipping back a few pages and trying to find the story. Forward ho again for twenty more pages, and then, I just couldn’t do it anymore. I’m so sorry, nameless author, I couldn’t finish your nameless storyless book. The other one, Charles Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities. Definitely a story here, but I couldn’t get past the first five pages. I attempted it because it is my friend Carrie’s favorite book (or one of them) and, of course, it’s a classic. I enjoy classic literature sometimes, but this one is more difficult than most. Either that, or I am not such an excellent reader after all. Or maybe I wasn’t in the mood to think so deeply. Whatever, that book is a bi-atch! It still sits on my shelf, daring me to pick it up, and I will… someday.

So, check out the books I’ve read on the Just Books tab, if you wish. That tab holds a few of my excuses for not writing regular posts for my blog. There are about a million other excuses why I don’t post regularly, but that’s another blog post. Still, my blog tugs at me from time to time, when I ignore it for weeks on end. It is like a living being begging me for attention, not so different from Zoe bringing me a smelly sock. Write me, it says. No, I’m reading, I say. Thenbite me, it says, but I just can’t listen to such negativity.

Anyone notice that I haven’t written squat lately? Well, I haven’t written squat lately, and I haven’t written any other words either. The ol’ blog is teetering towards irrelevance. Hell, it tottered into irrelevance the day it began almost a year ago. Do you ever notice that when some people’s blogiversaries roll around, they write a post like this … what the hell, my blog is a year old, and I’m doing this why??? Well, you’re reading another one. Both of you.

I guess a better word would be extinction. This blog is teetering towards extinction. Going the way of the Black Rhino, the Mountain Gorilla, and the Short-tailed Albatross (all listed first on the Top Ten Most Endangered Species List, depending on which website you believe), albeit not so devastating. So, hurry up and send in those donations, folks … maybe together we can Save Carla’s Blog. Just teasing …

What’s new that hasn’t already been thought of, hasn’t already been written, hasn’t already been read? Not much. Yet, here I am, rearranging words and waiting for inspiration to hit me between the eyes. Until next time …

A couple of weeks ago I was tagged, or memed (whatever that means)! I’ll stick with tagged. Anyway, I was tagged by Linda over at Crone & Bear It. I’ve been out-of-pocket a little lately, and have been avoiding WordPress like it’s my evil nemesis. Yes, I feel guilty, but sometimes I just have to live with the guilt, you know?

Down to business … as a part of this post, I need to tell you four simple rules of this game. They are as follows:

Meme (aka Tag) Terms & Conditions:

Link to the person who tagged you.

Mention the rules on your blog.

List six unspectacular things about yourself.

Tag six other bloggers by linking to them.

There you have the rules, and here come the six unspectacular things about myself (I’m sure my friends could come up with many more unspectacular traits):

I’m a crossword-a-holic lately. Not sure why, because I’m sort of crappy at it, but I’m addicted nonetheless. Guess there are worse addictions out there. My sister gave me a crossword puzzle book last spring. I’m still working through the same book, if that gives you any indication of my crossword expertise.

I’m convinced I have ADD. I start many projects, but finish few. I start them knowing they won’t get finished, but that doesn’t stop me from starting.

I’m an alternative rock music fan (seriously!) and know most of the words to my son’s band’s songs. When I don’t know them, I just make something up. Sometimes I even use real words! Occasionally, I even recognize other alternative bands’ songs, maybe a Breaking Benjamin or Coldplay song. I even like them.

I’m a defender of the underdog, at least in my head. I will look for reasons to defend most anyone from an attack (at least a verbal attack, not physical – I’m not that big, nor am I that stupid!). Unless the underdog is an ass. Then the underdog can fuhgedaboudit.

I’m not a great cook. I CAN cook, and I CARE about cooking, but other things take up my time. I suppose if I really cared about cooking, I would find the time, and maybe even become a great cook. If only I had 48 hours in every day, for then I would certainly cook! Uh-huh, that’s right.

I love off-beat humor. Not crass or filthy, just a little off to the side. Like Ellen Degeneres, David Letterman, Craig Ferguson, Steve Carrell. These people make me laugh!

Now for my tags. Here is where I break the rules. I only know two blogs to tag. The only other bloggers I know have already been tagged – Linda (who tagged me), and Delaney at Delaney’s World. I don’t have six blogging friends, so you can see how pathetic I am. So, so sad … Anyway, I now declare the following blogs are tagged and said bloggers are hereby requested to go public with just six unspectacularities. Well, only if you want to. Drum roll, please …

Yes, for me!!!! Another surprise! It’s a pretty award – The Charming Blog award – I got from my friend Delaney over at Delaney’s World. Read the paragraph below – sums it up perfectly …

“This blog invests and believes, in ‘proximity’ [meaning, that blogging makes us ‘close’ – being close through proxy] “They are all charming blogs, and the majority of them aim to show the marvels of friendship; there are persons who are not interested when we give them a prize, and then they help to cut these bows; do we want that they are cut, or that they propagate?”Then let’s try to give more attention to them! So with this prize we must deliver it to eight bloggers that in turn must make the same thing and put this text.”

While I don’t have eight bloggers in my little world to pass this to, I can at least pass it to a couple. What the above paragraph says to me is that we bloggers should encourage each other. This keeping of a blog is not an easy thing, at least not for me. Those that reach milestones and spend time entertaining, educating or just writing in a thoughtful manner for others, should be appreciated for their efforts. I pass this award to the following blogs that I enjoy reading, and hope that these bloggers will continue to pass it on.

Hey, check it out – someone likes my blog! Delaney over at “Delaney’s World” (http://delaney55.wordpress.com/) passed the award below to me. Thank you, Delaney – I am flattered! Thanks for checking in with my blog – and I suggest that my other friends check out Delaney’s blog also. It will put a smile on your face! The infamous chuckle of the day, great pictures, and thoughtful posts. It’s all there!

I would like to pass this award along to my good friend Char whose blog “Rambling is Therapeutic” (http://charmarie221.wordpress.com/) was the first blog I ever read on a regular basis. She’s a great friend and, as a matter of fact, first suggested I start a blog. To which I said … huh? Anyway, awesome writing (insightful and humorous) on her blog. Check it out! Char – take this award and pass it on!

Just because you can write anything in a blog doesn’t mean you should, at least I’ve read … and so this post is just too goofy, and maybe I shouldn’t, but here goes. I love pink erasers and always have. There, I finally got that off of my chest! Pink erasers haven’t changed since the day I started school (just a few years ago, actually …). It’s a bit of comfort in an ever-changing world, don’t you think, that the pink eraser has stayed constant? Still pink, still oblong, still erases, and that’s all you would ever expect it to do.

All the technology in the world hasn’t changed the pink eraser. Just think of how pens and pencils have evolved, and that unrelated item, the toothbrush. Seriously, is there another item out there that has evolved more than the toothbrush? How many more features can be added to a little stick with bristles that you use to clean your teeth? What a challenging job that must be to come up with yet another toothbrush gotta-have-it feature!

Not the pink eraser. It stays the same throughout the decades. I always need a pink eraser even though I rarely use one. Why don’t I use them (I heard someone out there ask)? Is it because I never make mistakes? Yes, that’s it! Or not. Actually, I mostly TYPE now (and I have the handwriting to prove it), and use a pen to write when I’m not typing. However, every year when I buy school supplies for my kids, I inevitably spy the new pink erasers on the shelf and think, I so need one of those! Only, not really, because the last one I bought still looks brand new and is still in my drawer.

Here’s a short history lesson. The pink eraser originated from a man named Eberhard Faber (sound familiar?) who started manufacturing pencils in the mid-late 1800s. His trademark for his pencils was “Pearl” – so he named his erasers “Pink Pearl.” Hmmm … how DID he come up with that name? Now, even though erasing is the only thing you would expect a pink eraser to do, they actually can do much, much more. Check out the following link, or if you can’t imagine why you would ever research the pink eraser any further, just keep reading below, I did it for you.

Clean golf balls by rubbing them with a Pink Pearl Eraser. Remember, to pack them in your golf bag, and you’ve got a new solution to a dirty golf ball.

Clean gold by very gently rubbing a Pink Pearl Eraser against gold plated items. This cleans the gold without damaging the material.

Clean piano keys by using a Pink Pearl Eraser to remove marks from the ivory keys.

Remove scuff marks from floors by simply using a Pink Pearl Eraser to remove them.

Who knew??? Obviously, not me. Notice that only the “Pink Pearl” is qualified for these tough jobs, ordinary erasers need not apply.

So, what is so special about a pink eraser to me? Here are a couple of things. The smell is, well, such a nice eraser-y like smell … don’t know how else to describe it, but I love it. It’s easy to use, and I can erase large spaces, if necessary. While it might be easier to just start over on a new page, that doesn’t fit my little story here, so just forget about it. Besides, that would be wasteful to start a brand new page when you have a perfectly good erased page you can use … yeah.

Mostly, I think I love pink erasers because even the smell of them evokes a time of youth, primarily my youth, in which I spent plenty of time practicing my writing and deciphering math equations, but mostly, erasing. My erasers had that “used” look after the first day of school. I could have been the Pink Pearl posterchild! Kind of like the little Coppertone girl, only without the doggie pulling down my panties … and of course, without the tan …

Work has sapped the blogging right out of me. So, this is random. I’ll just spew forth on the page…whatever I think of I will type…oooohdangerous! Thank goodness for editing features. Like I could ever write something without editing. I’m a constant editor in that I can barely finish a sentence before I start messing with it. I’m making a conscious effort now not to change anything until I’m finished with this, but you can bet your sweet bippy (remember that phrase, all you older than 40ish people?) I will be changing something before it’s over. Yep, already did!

I wish I could sneak away and get my camera right now, but if I do, the Kodak moment will be gone. My dog, Fritz, is lying on his tummy froggy-style, with his back two legs splayed out as if he has not a bone in them. If he was a person, you would call this position “the splits.” Maybe he’s a doggie gymnast when I’m not at home. After all, he’s agile, flexible, speedy, and somewhat graceful. If only he could nail the mount and dismount. Poor little guy does try on occasion. Apparently, the “surgery” worked nicely on him, because he’s only amorous when Zoe (my other dog) has been in the pool. Something about Zoe’s wet fur turns him into a spotted Pepe Le Pew (another dated reference), but without the fumes. He chases her relentlessly when she steps out of the pool. “Mmmmmm, Zoe, vous êtes un chien très sexy… permettez-moi de “sniffer” de votre queue… Je tiens à ma pratique la gymnastique …” Tis the language of love, or lust in Pepe’s, er Fritz’s, case.

To put it in human terms, Fritz must envision Zoe in this way as she steps out of the pool:

You could also say Fritz resembles the irresistible Dudley as he first lays eyes on Bo in the movie “10.” I’m picturing Fritz, er Dudley, jumping from towel to towel across the molten sand to get closer to Zoe, er Bo (my absolute favorite scene). If you’re under 40, you probably don’t even know these people…